I take the book from under my mattress and I unsheathed it from its sleeve. This book is a magic book for dummies. It sounds weird but my town I live in. Everyone knows magic. When my parents moved here, they found it quite interesting and actually they discovered their love and their abilities here. They were what they call magic rabbits. People who didn’t know they possessed magic until really late in their lives. It had always been in their genes. Me however, when I was born, everyone assumed that I would be magical since my parents both were but apparently, I’m the recessive one and turned out “normal” to normal. And abnormal to the magic people. The bad thing is, my parents didn’t enrol me to the schools here and instead gave me a book for mud rabbits. The name they give to people who pretend to be magical.

I’m flipping through the pages for my next trick. It’s weird how it feels quite orchestrated. My parents instruct me once a month to walk to the town square and perform the trick, which I would have rehearsed a thousand times, then a thousand more in front of my parents; until they were convinced that it was convincing. I find a page about a rabbit in a hat. The oldest trick in the book. Perhaps these magic people are so advanced that even the basic tricks would seem magical. Let me give this a try...